


not like in the movies

by orphan_account



Category: British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: M/M, i didn't MEAN for it to be porn when i started but big fucking shrug, it's cute porn, soft soft soft soft soft soft soft ass madderton, they're at cannes and taron is Stressed, they're best friends and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: something about the seclusion of their hotel room sets off a manic, prickling energy in the back of his head, making him twitch and feel ridiculously antsy for someone who had nearly passed out on the ride to the hotel."you alright?" richard asks.taron hums, rolling off of richard and settling down so he’s curled around one of the far too many pillows. "yeah, i don't know, i'm just...""nervous?"taron's eyes widen, as if a visible lightbulb has gone off at the top of his head at the word. "oh. i might be."





	not like in the movies

**Author's Note:**

> i don't proofread my fics and I'M! not actually that sorry
> 
> i also fully intended this to be just fluff and i'm kind of sorry about that one lmao oops, not enough to NOT POST IT THOUGH
> 
> i fully intend to write more of this shit in the future but it's camp nanowrimo this month and i'm working on a bodyguard fic (it's only soft and a little heartbreaking) so pleas be patient thank u and goodnight

taron falls face first into his hotel bed with a smile so wide his cheeks started to sting. he can hear richard's footsteps behind him, a soft laugh that makes him roll onto his back and look falsely nonchalant, meeting richard's amused gaze with his dopey grin. 

"comfortable?" 

"quite," taron chirps, scooting himself back on the bed to prop his torso against the headboard. richard just shakes his head, smile creeping up his cheeks and into the crinkles around his eyes. taron feels his heart go soft. "i was so fucking tired, like, ten minutes ago."

"you're already in bed, i'd say you still are."

taron bounces a little where he sat, glancing out the window by his bed. really, they could've afforded separate bedrooms, but taron likes richard's company and, despite his adamant protests, knows richard didn't like to be so alone. 

and really, it’s for the best that taron isn’t left to his own devices this weekend. the idea of cannes alone is terrifying. their room has a view of the beach, the ocean stretched out across the horizon, the pool just outside the hotel. it all feels overwhelmingly glamorous. he wonders what elton is up to. 

the bed sinks to taron's left, and he stops wondering, instead watches richard settle beside him. "you have your own bed, you know."

"i know, but i can't bother you from it."

"clingy," taron teases, completely heatless. he makes sure to grab richard's arm and lean into him once he's said it, a promise of sorts. 

"and you aren't?"

"i never said that." richard nudges the top of taron's head with his chin, affectionate. "i certainly don't mind it."

"you'd be a hypocrite if you did," richard sighs dramatically. 

taron rolls his eyes and settles against richard. so maybe he’s still a little tired. something about the seclusion of their hotel room sets off a manic, prickling energy in the back of his head, making him twitch and feel ridiculously antsy for someone who had nearly passed out on the ride to the hotel. 

"you alright?" richard asks.

taron hums, rolling off of richard and settling down so he’s curled around one of the far too many pillows. "yeah, i don't know, i'm just..."

"nervous?" 

taron's eyes widen, as if a visible lightbulb has gone off at the top of his head at the word. "oh. i might be."

"oh," richard repeats, alight with amusement. taron sticks his tongue out at him. richard makes a biting motion and taron howls a laugh, rolling onto his other side. "i mean, it's cannes, i can understand why you'd be nervous- is that it? you worried about the premiere?"

taron shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a pillow clutched to his chest. "everyone always says that cannes is a tough crowd, you know? so i guess that's... nerve wracking as hell."

"understandable."

"it's cannes, it's the fucking premiere..." a faraway look crosses taron's face as he thinks about it. "i feel like i've put so much of myself into that film, and i want people to like it. i want to do elton proud, and bernie, you know?"

"you already have," richard tells him softly. he feels the shift of weight beside him, the pillow being pried out of his grip as richard turns him physically to face him, their foreheads bumping together and making taron giggle. "i mean it, t, you're fucking incredible. i don't just say that because you're my friend, i say that because it's true. i'm so unbelievably proud of you, and you know elton is, too."

taron nods as much as the scant space between their faces allows. "i mean, logically i know that. it's like the monkey brain takes over when i think about the premiere, and it's just... all terrifying."

"i know," richard says gently. "i just want you to remember under all that anxiety, you made a film you can be really proud of. we're all so proud of you."

taron smiles at that, feeling sheepish and satisfied all at once. "what, you trying to sweep me off my feet, madden?"

"you say that like i haven't already," richard laughs.

"oi, fucking asshole!" taron smacks his arm and pushes him away, squinting with the grin spreading across his face. "wanker, i hate you."

"you don't."

"yeah, but it'd make my life so much easier if i did."

richard cocks an eyebrow at that. "fine, i don't have to shower you with compliments every chance i get."

"no, please, i need the validation!" taron wails melodramatically, causing richard to burst into a fit of giggles, taron instantly following suit. he falls back into richard's arms too easily, face buried for a moment in his chest, just breathing, before pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. "thanks, mate."

"of course," richard says seriously. he presses a kiss to taron's forehead, still smiling. "i get the same way, and you're always here for me when i need you. you've got to know by now it's very mutual."

taron's heart lurches at the sentiment. "yeah," he murmurs. the hotel room is calm, quiet beside their breathing and the faint business of cannes outside. they meet in the middle and it's half a mistake, half inevitable, and completely familiar. 

richard's lips are warm and a little chapped, wet where he’s prone to biting them, and insufferably pliant against taron's own. he forces back a soft noise at the feeling, instead sliding a gentle hand up richard's chest to rest on his neck, a soft, grounding weight. richard sighs as taron strokes a thumb across his neck, and really, there's not much taron can do to stop himself getting carried away. not with richard. 

"what's the point of two beds," richard asks when they part to breathe. "honestly. what were we thinking?"

taron laughs. "that we'd behave? wishful thinking."

richard wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously, rolling taron onto his back and hovering over him, the picture of sultry mischief. taron is a goner. "i can never behave around you."

"fucking hell," taron gasps. he tilts his head back to welcome richard's lips against his skin, eyes fluttering shut with a pleased sigh. "completely fucking mutual. jesus." 

"how are you already this turned on?" richard teases, nipping at taron's collarbone with a chuckle. taron cards a hand through richard's hair encouragingly. 

"you know how hot you are," taron laments as richard unbuttons his shirt. "and i'm that easy."

richard's gaze snaps up to meet taron's. "i'll have you know, it was a  _ struggle _ to get you to realize i was into you."

"we were making a  _ movie _ !"

their lips meet again, and this time richard is laughing against his mouth. taron finds he doesn't really mind. "you're cute when you're flustered," richard whispers.

"and you're cute when you fuck me."

taron really fucking likes the fire in richard's eyes when he says something obscene. "i can arrange that."

" _ please _ ."

not that they've developed a routine (though certain coworkers would claim otherwise,) but it's always a race to strip as soon as richard lets him up. taron can't help but let his eyes roam over richard's form, lean muscle, with blantant, obvious want. it distracts him from getting out of his jeans, which richard takes into his own hands, crouching in front of taron and tugging them off with his boxers his damn self. 

"you have no right to look this hot all the time," taron groans, fingers tangling in richard's hair as he plants open mouthed kisses on taron's hips. "jesus  _ christ _ ."

"just richard's fine," he growls as he pushes taron back onto the bed and crawls on top of him. this kiss is hungrier, demanding, needing more. "what do you want, t?"

taron grips richard's hips tightly, rocks his upward with a shameless whine. "i did say fuck me."

"you said i look cute when i do."

"well, i'd like you to be really cute right now." 

richard draws back just enough to look taron in the eyes, a soft smile on his pretty face. "i really like you."

"god, i would hope so."

richard nips at taron's bottom lip, and it instantly shuts him up. "i mean it. you're so important to me."

richard always does this, every time they do anything remotely intimate, even on set- it makes taron's heart melt without fail, soothes him and sets him on fire with the same breath. "i really fucking like you, too, dickie. cross my heart." 

richard fingers him open with infinite patience, as much as taron whines for him to go faster, harder, more. it's always slow with richard, slow and delicate and loving. richard doesn't treat him like he's made of glass, but he does take his sweet time, and it never fails to reduce taron to an absolute human puddle of affection. it feels like hours before he actually gets fucked, but just the look of bliss and visibly slipping control on richard's face is payoff enough. richard is soft and strong, a comforting weight, pressing him into the mattress and cupping his head gently, biting and kissing, and god, the sounds he makes.

"c'mon," taron begs, low under his breath. "c'mon, c'mon, i'm close."

“go on, taron," richard moans. that does him in- the coil in his gut unfurls and he comes with a loud whine, like the sound's been knocked out of him. richard shakes with the aftershocks, taron clings to him for dear life until he follows suit, whispering a slur of endearments into taron's neck as they both come down. 

when richard returns from the bathroom with a washcloth, taron has already snuggled into the bed quite comfortably. "could use that nap now.” 

"thought you might," richard chuckles, swiping the cloth over taron's stomach. "feel nervous still?"

richard tosses the washcloth elsewhere and settles down beside him, pulling the covers over them both. "not as much," taron mumbles. he scoots forward and wraps an arm around richard's waist, getting comfortable with closed eyes. 

"good.” richard kisses the top of taron's head, whispering a, "love you," that taron sleepily returns.

it's going to be a good fucking weekend. 


End file.
